


Policeman's Holiday

by TheMuchTooMerryMaiden



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Meeting, Gen, Lewis Summer Challenge 2014, casefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2198607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMuchTooMerryMaiden/pseuds/TheMuchTooMerryMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Hathaway, contemplating whether the police force is really for him, goes on a tropical holiday...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Policeman's Holiday

_Best sound in the world_ , James thought as the fans on his PC ran down. _Logged-off, switched-off, a fortnight away from it all._ James rolled back his chair and then stood up and rolled some of the tension out of his shoulders. He’d been sure a case would come up, or Knox would find some way of keeping him and if it had James wasn’t completely sure that he wouldn’t have thumped him. Just the thought of one more ‘didn’t learn about that at bloody Cambridge, did you?’ or ‘I thought you were supposed to be clever?’ or ‘You made a fuck of that didn’t you?’ made James feel murderous, God alone new what he’d do if he’d actually had to deal with Knox.

James picked up his jacket and shrugged it on, working out what was his best way out of the station to minimise his chance of meeting any of his superiors. 

Luck was not with him, within sight of the door, Chief Super Innocent caught him,

“Ah, James! Are you off then?”

“Yes, ma’am, back in just under three weeks.” 

“Going anywhere nice?” she asked,

“The British Virgin Islands.”

“Good, come and see me when you’re back.”

 

James had had to buy a whole new wardrobe, even his few casual clothes were more suited to either the seminary or to Oxford in winter. Still, he thought it made his packing light, a linen suit, because, well, when was he ever going to get another opportunity to do the ‘Our Man in Havana’ thing, and the rest was jeans, shorts and t-shirts. The biggest part of his weight allowance was books and the high factor sun lotion he’d packed, he didn’t want to spend the bulk of the fortnight doing his impersonation of a lobster.

He was up and waiting for the taxi when it arrived, still unable to shake the idea that something was going to stop him. Usually he wouldn’t even have thought of going abroad, but he hoped at least that once he was there, with his mobile phone accidentally (safely) left at home, then they would all leave him alone and he’d actually have time to get his head together and decide whether the job was really for him, because he’d had his doubts for a while and the last six months working for Knox had begun to harden those doubts into a certainty.

 

The weather was incredible, the sun much, much brighter than it ever was at home, but not so scaldingly hot that it was debilitating. Sitting by the pool, book in hand and long cold drink within each reach, James was beginning, finally, to relax. 

He’d decided that he wasn’t going to think about work for the first week, he was going to relax and come at it with a fresh mind. It wasn’t that easy, but he was still trying hard to forget it all. That was probably why it took him better than ten seconds to get up when he heard the first scream.

It was coming from where the pool was waist deep and ran right up to the sunken bar. Even with his slow start James was the first to act, jumping into the water to turn over the woman floating face down in a spreading pool of red to show a clear stab wound to her abdomen. He’d known she would be beyond any help in this life and he was torn for a moment between administering the last rites and police procedure, but he shook it off to shout at the barman,

“Call the police!”

 

Linen trousers, James considered were not intended to be worn in a pool, the more the damned things dried out the less comfortable they became. The police and the ambulance had arrived and pulled him and the unfortunate woman out of the pool. The paramedic had pronounced and suddenly the place was a crime scene and crime scenes were less comfortable from the other side.

“So you heard a scream, sir?” the uniformed sergeant asked, “And you just dived in, is that right?”

“Yes,” James replied trying to keep the impatience out of his voice, trying to be open and innocent, knowing that the more he tried the more suspicious he was going to seem, “She was clearly in trouble, I was trying to help, was that wrong?”

“No, sir, not wrong, but,” he paused and looked round the rest of the bar and pool, “but no one else tried to help, sir.” It wasn’t a question it was a tag, the sort of tag James had left to encourage a suspect to talk a hundred times. He didn’t pick it up and after a moment the sergeant continued, “Did you know the deceased?”

“Never seen her before,” James replied.

The conversation didn’t really go anywhere, James wasn’t volunteering any information and neither was the sergeant. James thought he was pretty far out of his depth. He hadn’t even asked the basics, name he’d got but not occupation and James wasn’t about to play the ‘we’re all coppers together’ card just yet. No one had been let to leave the bar area but as yet no one had managed to say who the woman was, mostly because the sergeant was floundering.

There was a disturbance, and James looked up to see an older man striding towards the scene. When the sergeant saw him he immediately stood up straight and called his sidekick to him. He looked like he was going to speak but the newcomer got in first,

“Right, Matthews, what’s going on?”

“Dead woman in the pool, Inspector Lewis,”

James observing this winced slightly, not a perfect response to the question, this Lewis almost certainly knew that bit already, he hadn’t just happened upon the bar looking for somewhere to have a quiet drink,

“I meant,” Lewis continued, “what have you done so far?”

“Stopped anyone leaving and taken names,”

“Well, it’s a start I suppose. What’s the victim’s name?”

“Sorry, sir, no one seems to know.”

The look that this Inspector Lewis gave the unfortunate Matthews made James want to squirm with sympathetic embarrassment. 

Lewis raised his voice,

“Does anyone here recognise this woman?”

There was a general uneasy moving of feet which amused James, it was both the same and not the same when the feet were bare or wearing flip-flops, but no one said anything,

“Right who was it dragged her out of the pool?”

James stepped forward,

“That was me,” he replied.

The detective inspector looked him up and down,

“What’s your name?”

James hesitated for a second, more than a little aware that the man in front of him would pick up that hesitation,

“James Hathaway,”

“And you’re sure about that?” Lewis asked, clearly suspicious but not hostile,

“I’m sure about that,” James replied with a very brief smile, “I was less sure about this bit, I’m a detective sergeant with Thames Valley.”

His words had much more of an effect than he imagined they would,

“Thames Valley, you say?”

“Yes,”

“How long have you worked there?”

James did the calculation in his head,

“Just about three years,”

“You’d be graduate entry then?”

James nodded.

“That would account for it then,”

It was James’ turn to look a little flummoxed,

“I’m on secondment from Thames Valley to here,” he held out a hand, “Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis.”

James took a mental step back, this was Robbie Lewis? Then he reached out and shook his hand,

“I’ve heard a lot about you, sir,”

“Oh aye?” Lewis managed in return, “Not sure I like the sound of that. Can you tell me what happened?”

James gave his report, exactly as he would have done to Knox, but he realised without the tight knot of nerves he would have had at home,

“I heard screaming and you know how it is, after even a few weeks on the job you learn to run towards a scream instead of away. She was in the water and I was fairly sure that she was beyond help, but I jumped in to see if there was anything that could be done.”

“There wasn’t?”

James looked past Lewis at the body, now covered with someone’s beach towel, and shook his head,

“The stab wound would have been enough, and she was face down in the water, I knew there was no hope.”

“Well, thank you Mr Hathaway. You’re staying in the hotel?”

“Yes,” James replied, “I’m on holiday.” James mentally cursed himself for the banality of what he said, of course he was on holiday. Lewis hadn’t apparently thought it completely stupid,

“Busman’s Holiday I’m afraid,” Lewis said with a genuine smile that lit his whole face and left James feeling almost breathless, “we shouldn’t have to bother you much, but my sergeant will be in touch about getting your evidence recorded.” James knew that he looked confused and Lewis continued, “Can’t very well drag you back when this comes to court, we’ve had to find ways of dealing with a population that’s better than fifty percent holiday makers.”

“I suppose so,” James said ending up just staring at him for a moment before he recollected himself, “I’ll go and get out of these wet clothes, let me know if I can help.”

Lewis looked round at his at least partially clueless henchmen,

“Might just take you up on that,” he said with another of his smiles which made James’ toes curl and also made him decide that he should get up and go before he did or said something terminally embarrassing.

 

James was restless after the ‘excitement’ of the afternoon. Up until now he’d had his evening meal in the hotel restaurant and then gone back to his room, enjoying the quiet and the time to read, but somehow this night that didn’t seem like an option; apart from anything else he didn’t relish listening to everyone talk about what he couldn’t help but think of as ‘the case’. So instead he decided to walk into town and see the night-life.

_The problem is,_ he thought, _I don’t really like night-life_. James found himself wandering through Road Town, looking for the quieter streets, avoiding the large knots of loud, American tourists until he found a little bar with a few tables spilling out onto the street and a smell of food that set his mouth watering.

A waiter hurried up to him as he approached,

“Good evening, what can I get you?”

James thought for a second,

“Whatever you think’s the best? It smells wonderful, and a bottle of red.”

“Very good, will you sit out here?”

“Yes,” James replied.

The red was good, and James savoured a glass as he waited for his food until Lewis sat down opposite him.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, again with that smile that seemed to go straight to James’ adrenal glands and squeeze,

“Not at all,” he managed to stammer out. He picked up the bottle of wine and looked over his shoulder to attract the attention of the waiter, only to see him advancing already with a glass and a smile,

“Ah, Mr Lewis, good to see you again! Will you be eating with us?”

Lewis raised an eyebrow at James,

“Yes,” he answered, trying to be assured and knowing he was failing, “please, join me,”

“Thanks,” Lewis replied, “Yes, I’ll have the usual, thanks David.”

The waiter bustled away, and James poured Robbie a glass of the wine,

“So, you come here often?” James asked with a smile,

“Yeah,” Lewis replied, “often enough, bit off the tourist path though, what brings you here?”

“Oh, I didn’t fancy staying in the hotel, listening to all the gossip and rumour and I wanted somewhere a bit away from all the tourists. I followed my nose and ended up here.”

“Well, you’ll not be disappointed, it’s an unknown treasure is this place, I live in dread of someone discovering it!”

Lewis was right, the food was fantastic and so was the company. Their conversation was largely about Oxford and at first James thought that Lewis was checking that he was who he said he was, but it soon just seemed like an everyday conversation between two colleagues.

After they’d finished their meal and they were sitting with the last two glasses from the bottle of red, James asked the question,

“So, where you just checking out that I really was who I said I was?”

Lewis smiled, looking down at where his wine caught the street lights and then looking directly at James,

“A little, but actually I’ve already been on to Oxford. Your boss speaks very highly of you,”

James stifled a bark of laughter,

“I sincerely doubt that, I don’t think that DI Knox ever said anything positive about me in his life,”

“No, not him, Jean Innocent.”

James knew that he’d let his surprise show, but Lewis continued, “says your one of her best.”

“I just thought that she’d take what Knox said as gospel,” James replied looking down at his wine,

“No, she won’t do that, she’s pretty shrewd, if Knox is being arsey she’ll spot it,”

“That’s reassuring.” James said, looking up at Lewis with a smile. They held each other’s gaze for a moment until James felt that the moment was perhaps going on a little too long for his comfort. He blurted out the first thing that came into his mind, “Are you any closer to finding out who that was?”

James could see Lewis bristle just slightly at being asked about his investigation but then he relaxed and smiled,

“She’s Yvonne Fielding, arrived on Tortola all of six hours before you were fishing her out of the swimming pool.”

“So much for a bloody holiday,” James said, “was she on her own?”

“Apparently, single room, on her own on the plane,” he took a sip of his wine, “she must have known someone though, people don’t just stab strangers, do they?”

“Not commonly, no. Although I suppose every maniac has a first kill once,” 

“I think I’ll just hope for a ‘normal’, stupid motive, thanks.” Lewis replied, with a flicker of a smile, before he leaned forward, his mind back, James thought on the case, “Did you see anything at all when you got to the poolside?”

James began to say no he hadn’t, he would have said something if he had, but then realised that it was a question very like many he’d asked himself in similar situations, so he took the time to think. It wouldn’t come, though.

“I can’t think of anything.”

Robbie shrugged,

“We could go back to the hotel, see if being there helps to jog your memory?”

James was frankly unsure that it would help, but he’d be going back anyway, if Lewis wanted to come with him then why not,

“I suppose it’s worth a try,” he replied, consciously preventing himself from shrugging. He stood up and reached for his wallet. Lewis held out a restraining hand,

“My treat? You are after all assisting me with my investigations,” it was said with a smile but James was unsure about it,

“I think I’m required to assist with police investigations, even if I weren’t a copper,”

“Aye,” Lewis replied, “but you’re on your holiday and I’m making you work.”

Without really knowing why he was telling Lewis, James muttered,

“Not sure how much longer this will be my work,”

Lewis waited for a moment, leaving James time to continue but spoke himself when James didn’t,

“From what Innocent said, sounds like that would be a bit of a loss,”

“She might think so, but like I’ve said, DI Knox would think it a consummation devoutly to be wished,”

“He’s not the only DI in the nick is he?” Lewis asked,

“I suppose not,” James replied, “anyway, I came here determined to have at least a week of not worrying about my career and that week isn’t up,”

Robbie accepted that and changed the subject,

“So are you an Oxford lad through and through?” he asked,

“Came from Oxfordshire,” James replied, “but went to Cambridge as soon as I could get out,”

“Isn’t that a distinction rather than a difference?” Lewis asked, 

“Pretty much,” James allowed, “but it was a distinction I was very glad to make at the time.”

“So, if you don’t mind me asking why did you go back?”

“Because, Cambridge doesn’t have a seminary.” As he said this James looked across at Lewis, wondering how he would handle the information, would he be treated to the same incredulous ridicule he’d got from Knox? He didn’t, he just got a calm, measuring sidelong glance before Lewis spoke,

“So, you were a priest? There was a bloke at the nick just when I arrived, who left to become a vicar, but I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of anyone going the other way.”

It was as good a reaction as he could have hoped for James thought as he replied,

“Not quite, I got kicked out before I was ordained,” He waited a beat again curious as to what Lewis would say, what questions he would ask but they continued on in silence as they walked towards the hotel for long moments, Lewis looking down at the pavement in front of them.

“Their loss,” he said finally, which surprised James,

“They didn’t think so,” he replied,

“I think there’s a surprisingly similar skill set, not least of which is being a good listener and knowing the right question to ask at the right time.”

“Or when not to ask a question?” James said,

“That too,” Lewis acknowledged with a small smile, “sometimes, people just need a bit of space to tell you what they have to tell, if you jump in with a million and one questions, you just get your ideas given back to you half the time.”

“I wish I could get that idea across to a few people,” James replied.

“Aye, it can be a difficult point to get across, so you were sitting by the pool? We’ve still got the pool closed off until tomorrow,” the dangling question was obvious to James,

“Yes, come in and I’ll show you exactly where.”

 

James was unclear about the usefulness of taking a witness back to the scene, he’d known it work and he’d known it be a disaster, he certainly didn’t think it would help in this situation. _And yet,_ he thought, _I’ve brought him back here_ , he didn’t want to examine his reasoning. The pool was deserted, as he would have expected the police tape keeping the ghoulish away at least for this evening.

“So,” Lewis asked “where were you when you heard the commotion?”

James walked over to the lounger he’d been sat on,

“I was lying here reading, when I heard a scream. It was a serious scream if you get my meaning, not an ‘I’ve just been splashed’.”

“So you got up fairly quickly? Which way did you go?”

“I went round this way,” James replied following the path he had taken that afternoon, “until I could see her face down in the pool, then I more or less dived.”

“You’re a good swimmer, then?”

“I suppose so, it was certainly the quickest way to get where I was going. Not that it did any good.”

Robbie looked at him with a softened expression, “It wouldn’t have mattered, lad, she was gone before she was in the water according to the doctor. Now, think, was there anyone who wasn’t behaving normally?”

“What,” James asked, “normally for when a woman has been stabbed in your hotel pool?”

“You know what I mean,” Robbie said, “You’ve seen how people react in this sort of situation, you must have attended some FATACs in your time in uniform.”

James nodded his agreement, realising that he was being a bit unreasonable with Lewis, though he couldn’t really work out why beyond the fact that he’d been determined to take some time away from the job and here it was coming and finding him.

“I think,” he said, closing his eyes to try and bring the event into closer focus, “everyone was behaving as you’d expect, mostly staring at each other wondering who was going to do something.” He opened his eyes again, “Sorry, I was in the pool trying to help almost straight away.” James stopped speaking, suddenly struck by the fact that he’d been the first in the pool,

“I suppose it was a bit odd that none of the employees of the hotel were in before me, there would have been people on duty I would expect.”

“Yeah, apparently the life-guard had just nicked off for a smoke, not that it would have made any difference to Mrs Fielding,”

“She was married then?” James asked and he continued when Lewis nodded, “that makes it stranger that she was here on her own doesn’t it?”

“According to her mother, when North Yorks talked to her, she hadn’t seen her husband for years, he walked out on her. Apparently she’d just recently taken up with a new bloke after waiting round for the old one for years.”

“Well, then, that is peculiar, new boyfriend and a single holiday?”

Lewis scrubbed at his hair briefly before he answered,

“She could have booked it before she met him? Couldn’t alter the booking, he couldn’t get time off?”

“Do we know what he does for a living? Is it possible he is here somewhere? Most victims are murdered by someone they know, after all,” James said. Despite himself James was enjoying the back and forth between them though he couldn’t have said why. Lewis pulled a small notebook from his hip pocket,

“He’s a builder, so I suppose he might have struggled to get away,” Lewis said,

“Not if all the stereotypes are true,” James said with a smile, “’started the job and then disappeared for a fortnight leaving me with no windows,’ you know.”

Lewis flashed him a smile, “I’ll get back in touch with North Yorks and ask them to make enquiries about his business.”

James was thinking, “And about the first husband?” James was annoyed to find himself blushing, and bracing himself for a withering response, but when Lewis just looked at him, eyebrows raised, he made himself continue, “Well, it all seems to have happened to her all at once doesn’t it, stopped carrying a torch for the husband, found a new bloke, tropical holiday, murder, it wouldn’t be strange if the whole lot was connected. Would it?”

James hated the question, but he couldn’t help himself. Lewis smiled, a genuine, warm, smile, and James relaxed just a little,

“I’ll see what they can turn out for us back home,” Lewis replied, “I can see what Innocent meant about you, you can see the big picture and the detail.”

James looked down at his feet. He classified what he was feeling as embarrassment and chose not to think about it further. “That’s not what my governor would say,” he replied.

“Charlie Knox?” Lewis enquired. 

James nodded in agreement, still not looking directly at Lewis,

“Well, he always was a chippy sod,” Lewis said, “You should have heard him having a go at my governor.”

James looked up at that and Lewis could apparently read the question from his face,

“My governor was DCI Morse, I’d bet you’ve heard of him,”

“Yes,” James replied, “Knox has spoken about him,”

“And from your tone of voice I doubt it was anything complimentary,” Lewis said, “well, he wasn’t an easy bloke but he was four times the copper that Knox will ever make.” It wasn’t irritation that James could hear in Lewis’ voice it was out and out anger. James wanted to know what it was like to work with someone properly, so that you would feel like that about someone who spoke disparagingly of them even all these years later,

“Were you close,” he began and Lewis gave him another sidelong look,

“I don’t know if that’s the right word,” he said and paused for a moment before continuing, “Most bagmen and their inspectors are, you know, you really need to get away from Knox, but yeah we were close. Like I said, he wasn’t an easy bloke to know or even sometimes to work with. Sometimes he’d get a fixed idea and you couldn’t shake him of it, the number of times we were carpeted by Strange, the boss back then,” he clarified when James looked non-plused for a second, “But nine times out of then he was right, even though he couldn’t tell you why he thought what he thought. He loved puzzles, and sometimes that made him see complexities where there weren’t any but mostly his instincts led him and me right.”

“Was he why you ended up out here?” James asked. He looked at Lewis as he asked the question and saw the shutters come down, the tightness around his eyes, the clenching of his jaw before he answered,

“No. My wife. There was a road accident.”

“I’m sorry,” James said, not knowing what else to say, “I shouldn’t have asked,”

Lewis, with great effort, managed a smile although it didn’t this time get as far as his eyes, 

“Not to worry, lad, it’s a long time ago now and you weren’t to know. It’s part of the job, being nosey about people, wanting to know. No, it was bad when Morse died, but then Val was knocked over, it seemed like there was nothing to keep me there, kids were long gone.” He stopped speaking, lifting his head apparently to look at the stars, James wasn’t sure what to say, whether to say anything but after a moment Lewis continued, “I drank a lot for a while, I wasn’t doing a good enough job, I was offered this to try and get me back on an even keel and it worked. That’s it really.”

“Thanks for telling me,” James said, surprised to find that he meant it, “I shouldn’t have asked and you could have just told me to bugger off. I’m glad you had people who helped.”

“Aye,” Lewis acknowledged, “sometimes that’s what a person really needs. I hope you get that same help when you need it.”

“Will you stay here,” James asked,

“I’m not sure, I’m just coming to the end of the secondment, it’s mostly been training, I wouldn’t have taken this but for holidays needing to be covered, they’d probably extend it but perhaps it’s time to go home. Our Lynn, my eldest, would like me home I think. Anyway, it’s getting late, thanks for the company, it’s been good.” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed James his card, “Give me a call if you think of anything else. I hope you can enjoy the rest of your holiday, and,” he paused and swallowed, “don’t let Charlie get you down, remember he’s not the only DI in Oxford, and before long it’ll be time for you to move up and out.”

James watched him as he walked away, turning the small rectangle of card over and over in his hands before he finally set off for his room.

 

James found it difficult to sleep that night, which he supposed was not to be wondered at. He almost felt that he ought to be used to death but then in the police you normally didn’t find people quite so directly after they’d died, it was enough to give him even more respect for Dr Hobson than he had already. It wasn’t just that though, it was the fact that all the things he’d been putting off thinking about had come up in his conversation with DI Lewis. In particular, was he going to continue in the police?

He didn’t want to quit, he knew that. He’d quit the seminary although he was honest enough to admit that it hadn’t been his choice it still felt like he’d quit when the going got tough, after all he could have argued when it was suggested to him that his path lay elsewhere. Either way he didn’t want to have given up on two careers by the age of thirty. What was that old thing, if you hadn’t begun your life’s work by the time you were the same age as Christ at the crucifixion, you never would? But, was the police his life’s work? Objectively he knew, despite what Knox said, that he was good at it and that it was something he was prepared to work hard at but he wasn’t sure that was a good enough reason to keep doing the job. It wasn’t after all a very upbeat way of spending your time. He continued to chase the thoughts round and round his head, over and over until as it was finally getting light he began to slip into sleep.

Something jolted him awake, and he swore as he tried to work out what it was. Looking at his watch he’d been asleep for all of fifteen minutes at most, probably not that long, he swore again and sat up, still chasing the elusive thought or noise that had woken him up. As he got up and reached for his phone to check for messages he realised what it was that had woken him as the phone started ringing and made him jump. After he’d juggled with the phone for a second or two he answered.

“Hello,”

“Hiya, is that James Hathaway?”

“Yes, is this DI Lewis? I think I’ve remembered something,” James said, wondering if he should have left Lewis to say what it was he wanted,

“Go on,” Lewis prompted,

“You asked if anyone was behaving oddly yesterday? Well there was one person, a waiter who just continued to walk away with a tray, he was coming past me as I got to the pool, completely ignoring all the screams and fuss.”

There was a longish pause before Lewis spoke,

“What did he look like?”

James thought for a moment,

“Slightly shorter than me, say about five foot ten, wearing the same clothes as the rest of the hospital staff, his hair was long, longer than the other people who work here, it was dark, black almost and he had quite a dark complexion, like he was maybe mixed race. His eyes were dark too. I was as intent on getting to the screams as he seemed to be on getting away. I should have realised sooner, thought of it yesterday.”

“Not to worry,” Lewis replied, “the description you’ve given me matches with the one I’ve just had from North Yorks.”

“What, for the new boyfriend?”

“No, for the old husband. Listen, I’m coming back to the hotel, can you meet me in reception in about fifteen minutes?”

“Of course,” James replied. It wasn’t until he was almost fully dressed in the most formal clothes he’d brought with him that weren’t still drying out, that he realised that it felt like being back at work, only he wasn’t dreading it.

 

James was pacing in reception when Lewis arrived, impatient to see what if anything he could add to Lewis’ investigation,

“Have they sent you a picture?” he asked without waiting,

“You’re keen,” Lewis said with a tight smile, and it struck James that the older man was enjoying ‘the thrill of the chase’ as much as he was. He pulled an A4 picture from the envelope he was carrying and turned it to James.

James was sure it was the same man and said so,

“He looks a bit older now but I’m sure that’s him. How long ago was that photograph?”

“Nearly seven years.” Lewis said, “it’s all a bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“What she pines for him for nearly seven years, finally gives up on him, and then when she goes on holiday there he is? I think that would be stretching coincidence way beyond what is sensible.”

“Got to agree. Let’s see if we can speak to the manager and find out what they know about him, shall we?”

James didn’t question the ‘we’, he just fell in behind Lewis as they walked to the reception desk.

 

“He’s not one of our employees,” the manager stated again. They were getting nowhere. To start with the manager had looked cursorily at the photograph and denied all knowledge of the bloke and when James said that he’d seen him apparently working as a waiter by the pool, he’d merely stated that he wasn’t one of their employees.

Lewis took a deep breath and tried again,

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, “You must have quite a lot of employees, even more in season like this,”

“I can be sure,” the manager said, “because we wouldn’t employ anyone with their hair like that. We do have a dress code for staff, he’d have had to cut his hair.”

 

“So, where does that leave us?” Lewis asked when they were seated.

“It leaves us with a suspect, I suppose,” James said, “but nothing much in the way of a motive.”

“Aye,” Robbie agreed, “I’ve alerted the ports and the airport, but it’s not exactly a tight border, but I don’t know what name he’s going by, doubt if it’s still David Fielding though.”

“No, probably not.”

“The real reason is the why, though as you said.”

James had been turning that over in his mind,

“Do you think the seven years is significant? I mean,” he continued as Lewis looked at him closely, “seven years is the amount of time you have to wait to declare someone dead isn’t it?” He ducked his head, subconsciously bracing himself for Lewis telling him he was stupid,

“It is,” Lewis said, considering what James had said, “but I can’t see how he would benefit from being declared dead,”

“Unless,” James interrupted, “they cooked it up between them, and then she decided against It? Perhaps she decided on a divorce instead of waiting for the seven years? I realise I’m probably talking rubbish,”

It was Lewis’ turn to interrupt,

“We’ve got nothing else, so it’s a good enough working premise for the time being. I’ll get back on to North Yorks and see if they can track down any, I don’t know, insurance maybe, anyway, I should let you get on with your holiday, you’ve been a great help, but it can’t have been what you were planning for your holiday.”

He smiled and James was aware of two things, how well he looked smiling and with a light in his eyes and that James felt more than a flicker of disappointment that he wasn’t actually going to be working the case with Lewis. He cleared his throat,

“No,” he replied, “but let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

It was Lewis’ turn to look down before he replied,

“Thought we could meet up later, I could keep you in the loop if you wanted me to?”

James grinned,

“I’d appreciate that, you’ve got my number, I’d really like to know what’s going on.”

 

What James hadn’t realised was that the arrangement he’d made with Lewis would mean he would be effectively waiting by his phone for the day. He really tried not to, taking his book down to the beach, settling in to read, but he found himself checking his phone over and over. In the end he decided to cut his losses and go to the police station.

It was a much more open affair than James was used to, he supposed it fitted its environment. He walked up the steps and in through the open door. It was cool inside and there was a ceiling fan, moving deceptively slowly, stirring the air in the room. James walked up to the desk,

“I was wondering if I could speak to Inspector Lewis,” James began,

“He’s not here at the moment, sir,” the desk sergeant replied, “I could give him a message if you want?”

James inwardly cursed himself, of course Lewis was out, he was trying to track down a murderer after all,

“No, it’s OK, I’ll catch him later,” James replied, turning to leave the station and almost walking into the man himself,

“Oh, Mr Hathaway, I was just going to ring you, come back to the office and I’ll fill you in.”

It was impossible for James not to feel warmed by the smile that seeing him had put on Lewis’ face and by the man’s ready acceptance that he would want to know what was going on with the case. He followed Lewis back behind the desk to what turned out to be a very small office.

“It’s not much,” Lewis said, waving him in, “but it’s home. Take a seat.”

James did, glancing round the room and taking in the fact that it was one of the few rooms in the building that didn’t take the full hit of the hot afternoon sun,

“This is nice,” James began, “I bet it’s the coolest room in the station, isn’t it?”

Lewis grinned,

“I’m not so green as I’m cabbage looking, I looked round when I arrived and to the surprise of the bloke in charge I didn’t boot him out of the big office, brownie points _and_ a relatively cool place to work. Anyway, I’m glad you turned up when you did, it saved me a trip, I think we’ve got David Fielding and I could do with you IDing him as the waiter you saw yesterday.” James swallowed, and Lewis noticed the nervous reaction, “It’s nothing to worry about, just a parade like at home,”

“No,” James said, “it’s not that, it’s just weird being on the other side of something like that,” he grinned for a second, “it’s probably good to experience it this way, I suddenly know why witnesses get so nervous, what if I don’t pick out the right man?”

“There is no right,” Robbie said, “if you pick out David Fielding the investigation will go one way, if you don’t then we’ll just need to reconsider our theory of the crime. I’ve always found it best to keep an open mind when I can. Anyway you’re not identifying him as David Fielding, are you, you’re identifying him as the waiter at the poolside, I can’t ask for anything else now I’ve shown you a picture of what he was like ten years ago, can I?”

There was a pause, James considered the many differences between Lewis and Knox, not least of which was that Knox considered keeping an open mind to be a waste of time, better to ‘know’ who’d done it and go after them,

“So you’re not one of the ‘a collar is a collar’ brigade?” James said with a smile.

“I would hope that went out years ago, but maybe it didn’t.” Lewis said, “Happen it’s time I got back to Oxford at that rate.”

“Are your kids still in Oxford?” James asked, trying to divert the man away from what he felt he’d given away,

“No, they’ve long ago flown the nest, my girl’s up in Manchester and Mark’s never really settled anywhere but he seems happy. Oxford’s my home, though. Anyway, best get this ID over with. Same rules as at home, but I’m afraid we don’t run to one way glass here. I’ll get you a brew and then come and get you when we’re set up.”

Left alone, sitting once again in a police station, James had nothing to do but think about the job, the very thing he’d been trying to avoid considering. He was fairly sure that he should jack it in, really, it was only stubbornness that was keeping him turning up each day he knew that. He’d never kidded himself that it would be an easy job, it was like the priesthood in that respect, you tended to see people at their worst and then very occasionally at their best. What he hadn’t been really ready for in either case was that the people he would see at their worst would so often be his colleagues. 

But then there was Lewis and surely other people like him, perhaps he shouldn’t give up on the whole idea just because DI Knox was … whatever he was. _Still don’t think I can take much more of him_ , James thought, _but if I ask for a reassignment then how will that look. I can’t even work towards promotion away from him, he’ll never OK my application for OSPRE that’s for sure. Wonder if what Lewis says is right about Innocent, she said she wanted to see me, I suppose she could be wanting to move me, or push me towards promotion. Still, I can’t work with Knox much more, it’s going to unhinge me. I should quit._ The more James turned it over and over the more entangled he got in it all, no closer to knowing what he should do.

 

It was very weird being on the other side of an ID parade. Lewis had asked him to walk down the line of potential suspects, taking as much time as he needed, and then say if he saw the ‘waiter’ from the poolside. It was a fair parade, the men were all very similar in appearance, but James had no real doubt as to which one was the man in question. He walked to the end of the line and then turned to face the row of men before he spoke,

“Number two is the man I saw at the hotel yesterday.”

James could see the man tense all his muscles for a second but that was all the reaction,

“Thank you very much, Mr Hathaway,” Inspector Lewis said, “If you could go out and wait in the outer office?”

James nodded and left.

 

It took Lewis some time to come and find him again, time during which James tried determinedly not to second guess himself with only limited success; one thing he was certain of was that he would be a lot more understanding of witnesses in the future and that he would try to be the one who dealt with the witnesses from here on in, better him than Knox.

When Lewis walked out into the office he had a smile on his face and James knew that the man he’d identified had been David Fielding,

“Thank you again,” Lewis said, “I’d love to invite you back to watch the interrogation, but it might look like collusion and I don’t want to create any loop-holes he can squirm through.” He paused and James had time to realise that he did feel disappointed at not being part of the investigation before Lewis spoke again, “When do you leave?” he asked,

“End of next week.” James replied,

“And you’re still at the same hotel? I’ll catch up with you next week, is that OK?”

James nodded his agreement and left the station in the direction of his hotel.

 

By the middle of the next week James was feeling considerably better. He’d read in the local news that police had charged the estranged husband of Yvonne Fielding with her murder which was about what he’d expected, and once he knew that it seemed like he was able to properly relax, getting more sleep than he had in months, revelling in the time to get some serious reading done. Looking in the mirror he realised that he even had a bit of colour; that never happened in Oxford.

He was also aware of a feeling of anticipation about seeing Lewis again. Of course he stamped it down, aware of the fact that Lewis was a busy man, but still. 

On the Wednesday of his second week he was sat by the pool when Lewis, good to his word, sat down on the lounger next to him,

“You’ll have seen the news then?” Lewis asked,

“Yes, good result.”

“Yes, it was rather, we’d never have got him if you hadn’t been observant though,”

“Someone else would have seen him if I hadn’t. Will I need to come back to testify?”

“Probably not, anyway, I’ll probably be back in Oxford mi’sel before then,”

James couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness when he heard that, it left him not really sure what to say. Lewis filled in the gap for him,

“Am I right in thinking you’ve been considering giving up the policing lark?”

“I’ve certainly been thinking about it,” James said, 

“Because you don’t like it or because you don’t like Knox?” Lewis asked,

“Not just Knox,” James replied, “but yes it’s the way some people do the job rather than the job itself. Watching you had made me think again perhaps, perhaps the job is worth doing just so that some people are doing it right?”

“I’ll need a bagman,” Lewis responded, “when I get back, would you be interested?”

This was a decision that James didn’t feel like chewing over for weeks,

“Yes.”


End file.
